A Larry Stylinson Story
by SharonIsPaintingRain
Summary: Multi-chapter. Harry and Louis struggle with their feelings for each other, and the rest of the band isn't sure how to help or even if they want to ;O Primarily Larry Stylinson. Hints at other pairings. WARNING for a bit of mature language.


Harry cracked open the door to his and Louis' flat slowly, sticking his face in and looking around, "Pitch black, the coast is clear."  
"He's gone to bed?" Lila asked, squeezing Harry's hand tightly. The curly-haired man looked at his date with a wide grin, "Yeah. Be quiet though, he wakes easily," he placed the index finger of his free hand on his lips, making doubly sure that she understood.  
Lila bit her lip and nodded.

"You're adorable, Layla," Harry whispered.

"Lila," she corrected.

Harry ignored her and pushed the door open a little wider and the pair slipped inside. The second the door was shut behind them, their lips crashed together and Harry pushed Lila up against the wall. His hands found the hem of her shirt and slipped up underneath, feeling the blonde's soft, smooth skin. Lila let a little moan escape her lips as his head moved down and began kissing her neck sensually.

"Shh…" He muttered, "Let's go to my room." There was a sense of urgency in their panting breaths as they stumbled through the house, not willing to take their hands off each other.

"This one," Harry instructed the girl, who then turned the handle on the wooden door. Harry's room was dark as well, perfect for what they were about to do. He felt her hands tugging at his belt and smirked, unbuckling it for her. As they moved toward the bed, clothes came flying off in every direction until both were in nothing but their underwear and in Lila's case, a bra. Harry placed his hands on her slender hips as she pushed him back onto the bed, taking her with him. They tried to stifle their giggles as she straddled his lap and ran her hands down his beautifully chiseled abs. Harry reached up to touch her but she grabbed his wrists, pinning them to the bed. As she did so, Harry's hand ran over the sheets and came upon something odd. He became suddenly aware of another presence in the bed next to him and sat up abruptly, covering Lila's mouth with his hand and staring at the mound in the bed next to him. Lila raised her eyebrows at Harry with a "what the hell?" expression on her face. Harry pointed to the other side of the bed and Lila squinted in the general direction for a few seconds, before realizing the blankets appeared to be breathing. She let out a little gasp and keeled backwards, nearly falling off the bed. Harry helped her up and then flipped the switch on his lamp. The light flickered on. There, on Harry's bed, was a pale boy with a mop of messy, light brown hair, hugging one of Harry's pillows tight and clasping an iPhone in one hand. The boy was fast asleep, his mouth hanging open slightly, and an almost sad expression on his face.

"Lou…" Harry sighed, and looked around at Lila, who was standing in the middle of the room with a blanket covering from her chest, down. She mouthed, "What the fuck" at him and he mouthed an apology back, rubbing his forehead with his hands. Louis Tomlinson even managed to be a cockblock in his sleep. Harry got up and grabbed Lila's hand, pulling her out the door and into the living room, "I'm sorry, I had no idea he was going to be in there."

"So which one _is_ your room?" Lila asked, looking around at the other doors.

"No… That was it," Harry replied.

"And why was your flatmate sleeping in your bed?" She asked, smirking.

"He just… Does that," he muttered reluctantly, "If you wanna go to his room, we can finish what we started," Harry said hopefully, moving closer to Lila once again, wrapping his arms around her still unclothed waist and kissing her lightly on the lips. She smiled but pushed him away; the spark was gone.

"I'm not really in the mood anymore…" She apologized. Harry groaned, "Layla—"

"It's Lila, you prick. I'm going to go. It was nice meeting you Harry, you played a really good show tonight." She slipped back into Harry's room, and emerged a minute or so later, fully dressed, and tying her hair back up into its ponytail.

Harry leaned against the arm of the couch and watched her strut out, silently. There was no point trying to go after her, he hadn't even liked her much to begin with. The front door of the flat slammed and Harry winced slightly at the loud noise.

After a few minutes of sitting on the arm of the couch, Harry stood up and walked slowly back to his room and peeked inside. Louis was now considerably more sprawled out than he had been when he and Lila had been in there. Harry glared at the reason he wasn't having sex right now and went over to the bed with every intention of pushing the older man onto the floor. However, when he knelt down onto the mattress, Louis' eyelids fluttered open and their eyes locked on each other.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Louis whispered. Harry gritted his teeth. So he had been awake this whole time.

"Yeah, whatever," Harry said, coldly, and lay down on the bed, his back to his friend. He reached over to the bedside table and turned out the lamp again, sending the room into darkness. Harry felt arms wrap around his bare torso and Louis' head rest on his shoulder, "Hazza, if I'd known you were going to bring a girl home, I wouldn't have been here, I swear. I just fell asleep waiting for you. And you wouldn't text me back so I was worried." Still Harry said nothing. "Please Haz, don't be mad at me. I thought it would have been more awkward if I didn't pretend to be asleep. Surely you can understand that." Silence. "Harry… I love you."

Harry let out a deep sigh and rolled over to face Louis. This boy always knew what to say and how to say it. "I love you too…" was his only response. But it was good enough for Louis, who flashed a radiant smile and snuggled up to his friend. The curly-haired boy held the older one close.

This was the kind of relationship they had. If anything came between them, they'd apologize and say they loved each other and all would be forgiven. If only Harry could see the tears in Louis' eyes right now, or feel the heat radiating from every part of his body that was touching Harry, or hear the pounding of his heart that was caused by their close proximity. Maybe then, Harry would understand why Louis messed with him all the time, why he flirted with him constantly or why he was in Harry's bed right now rather than his own. Unfortunately, Louis knew he could never tell Harry how he truly felt about him. It would ruin everything they had worked so hard to achieve, both in their friendship, and in the band.

Tears finally spilled over his waterline and dripped down his cheeks onto the sheets. Every time Harry brought home another random, it broke Louis' heart into smaller and smaller pieces. More than anything, he wished it could be him for once. It was only a matter of time before Louis lost it and took matters into his own hands.


End file.
